And the wondering people saw
at the back windows of the Court House and at the threatening
port-holes more youngsters manning Winchesters, more at the
windows of the jailer's frame house, which joined and fronted the
jail, and more still--a line of them--running all around the jail;
and the old men wagged their heads in amazement and wondered if,
after all, a Tolliver was not really going to be hanged.
So they waited--the neighbouring hills were black with people
waiting; the housetops were black with men and boys waiting; the
trees in the streets were bending under the weight of human
bodies; and the jail-yard fence was three feet deep with people
hanging to it and hanging about one another's necks--all waiting.
All morning they waited silently and patiently, and now the fatal
noon was hardly an hour away and not a Falin nor a Tolliver had
been seen. Every Falin had been disarmed of his Winchester as he
came in, and as yet no Tolliver had entered the town, for wily old
Judd had learned of Hale's tactics and had stayed outside the town
for his own keen purpose. As the minutes passed, Hale was
beginning to wonder whether, after all, old Judd had come to
believe that the odds against him were too great, and had told the
truth when he set afoot the rumour that the law should have its
way; and it was just when his load of anxiety was beginning to
lighten that there was a little commotion at the edge of the Court
House and a great red-headed figure pushed through the crowd,
followed by another of like build, and as the people rapidly gave
way and fell back, a line of Falins slipped along the wall and
stood under the port-holes-quiet, watchful, and determined.
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